Possibly the biggest obstacle to completing the Hood to Hood is just making sure you stage all your gear correctly, get lucky hitchhiking and nothing gets stolen in between.
Now the biggest uncertainty I had was how the hell would I manage a ride up to Timberline in the pre-dawn glow? Armed with a cardboard sign, I did my best to look presentable and not homeless as I walked the dreaded distance from the Hood/Columbia confluence uphill to the road back out of town. Just after 5am there wasn’t much traffic or light, but my pickup was surprisingly quick. My sign had attracted a race coach, who without any kids in tow this morning was happy to give me a ride. We discussed Big Sky vs Bridger and he was baffled at my plan, but I reassured him of my precaution.
Unexpectedly arriving at the ski area parking lot before 6:30, I walked up to the Lodge and grabbed coffee. Quickly booting up and joining the army of waiting ski racers in the Magic Mile line. Up the ‘Mile and then up the Palmer chairlift, I quickly cheated my way to 8500 feet. The skinning was classic PNW glare, totally sketchy and terrible. Luckily I had no slip-ups and ditched my skis for crampons at the Hogsback and joined a steady stream of first-timers and seasoned alpinists on the Pearly Gates route. The 2022 season was incredible for snow preservation and the bergschrund wasn’t remotely close to showing on the steep final pitch. With a few summits under my belt, I made fairly quick work of the Gates and joined the party on top. The summit of Hood is a funny place, because it's busy, borderline sketchy, but also deceivingly attainable and familiar. I sat on top of the world, ate my snacks, smoked a celebratory one and enjoyed the good weather. I knew skiing would be pure shit but toed the side of being too early than too late. Carefully dropping into the old chute I made the mandatory exposed steep turns and kept my edges underneath. Traversing west the snow was funky but not sun-cupped. It was after 11 when I finally hit money corn turns in the ZigZag canyon.
A pit stop back in the lodge gave me enough time to get hydrated and snack more. Climbing Hood is not an easy physical endeavor, even if you cut the vertical gain in half. Tired but committed to retrieving my car, I walked to my bike and saddled up. My original hope was a less chaotic descent down the West Leg road, however the deep snow left the seasonal road buried and I descended taking the full traffic lane on the main road instead. After 6 heavy miles of braking, I sent the left onto Highway 26 with a charge, taking my energy through the Highway 35 split and finally chugging out of speed near the Pioneer Woman's grave. The first climb to Barlow Pass was daunting and challenged me infinitely more than my early morning boot up the summit. As I finished off the Barlow Summit and moved towards White River, I began to doubt my strength. Sitting by the cool water of the upper White River I collected myself and took my first extended break of the day. It was a short climb left before I would begin my extended downhill, but it was the crux of my day. The temp’s hovering in the low 60’s felt much greater with the sweat beading down my back and the sun baking my tired body. Back onto the bike and finally passing the turn off to Mount Hood Meadows, I was ecstatic to feel my goal was in reach. Taking my first descent down Highway 35 was less scary than expected. The traffic wasn’t bad and I found even flow in the downhill before I would need to carry my momentum through sections I had expected to coast. Turning off into the small town of Odell, I made another stop to chow some tacos.
As I coasted into the Apple Valley parking lot my longest transition began, inflating the boat, rigging my gear and changing into dry gear. This would be the first time I would paddle the Lower Hood alone, maybe not the greatest idea in hindsight, but I was comfy with the run and felt recovery was easy in my small boat. Thankfully the flow was manageable for the time of year, even with the huge snowpack. Excited to finish the goal, I pushed off below Tucker Bridge and pumped myself up to run some familiar rapids. Feeling like a slug, I sloppily bounced down Prelude rapid and then the series of Dam rapids. Taking a bad line below Pipeline, I barely saved a swim with a last second brace. Almost blowing it in the rapid proved to be a good wake up call to keep myself from taking an unnecessary swim in the cold swift water. Passing the Powerdale takeout and seeing the familiar sights of downtown Hood River, I felt my second wind come on. Now it was time for more Mexican food, the retrieval of my bike and hopefully more corn turns the next morning.
2,700~ Vertical Climbed.
5,200~ Vertical Skied
45 miles~ biked
6 miles of Class III boating
Total Time 13.5 hours car to car.